Page 30 of Carnage Island

But I… I just don’t. And I have no idea what to do.

The room is so dark now it’s black.

And my damn wolf refuses to—

Water hits my head unexpectedly, drawing a sharp intake of air from my wolf that she releases on a low whine of disapproval.

“If you want to sleep in my bed, then you’re at least going to be clean,” Tieran says as he sets me down in a space bigger than my bedroom back home.

A shower, I realize, noting the marble and various heads.Who needs a shower this big?

“Sit,” he demands, talking to me like a dog.

Which I would normally be pissed about, but my wolf is behaving like an untamed canine, so his treatment is probably deserved.

My wolf buffs, ignoring his command.

And tries to leave the shower instead.

He grabs me by the scruff to pull me back. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re filthy from that cage and the ocean. And since you refuse to let your human take over, I’m bathing you.” He uses his grip to force my eyes to his. “And if you’re a good girl, I may even brush you.”

I shiver inside.

Something about that promise feels so…intimate.

He releases my scruff to stroke a hand down my neck to my throat. “I see you in there, little one,” he whispers, his intense blue eyes holding mine. “I know your wolf has taken over. We’ll help you regain control.”

His soft voice soothes some ache deep inside me.

Until I remember his name.

Tieran Black.

The monster who slaughtered his mate.

His eyes narrow as though he can read my mind.

Or maybe he can smell my fear.

Rather than comment on it, he guides my wolf beneath the water again and proceeds to bathe her. She yelps and growls a few times, but he doesn’t snarl back like before. He just runs his fingers through my fur, massaging a woodsy scent into my coat.

It reminds me of pine trees.

I want to inhale it, to bathe in it, but my wolf is too busy sputtering as the water touches her snout. She is not a fan of this experience at all, not understanding the intimacy of having an Alpha take care of her, or respecting his patience as he rinses away the suds.

She just keeps yipping at him.

Which earns her a rap on the nose. “Quiet, errant one.”

I almost snort. Because I’ve called her that once or twice already.

“I will never understand why the Nantahala Wolves choose to suppress their females for so long,” he mutters, making me freeze inside.

You know what I am?

“If you were raised in my pack, you would have started shifting around age five. We consider our animal forms sacred, and we embrace them at a young age to avoid the possibility of disassociation.” He turns off the water to grab a towel. “But I suspect your males do this as a way to control you. To make sure you have to rely on them to be one with your beast.”

My wolf growls a little as he starts patting her down, clearly not appreciating the manhandling.